Chapter 23 Dylan
DYLAN
Well, somebody wants to get her brains fucked out.
I don’t know what’s turning me on more—the fact that she has the Caddyshack gopher living in her brain, the fact that she told me about it, or the fact that she’s trying to get me all riled up because she thinks I need an incentive to fuck her harder.
I don’t even need her to tell me another secret because she’s revealed a big one.
Dr. Scarlett Shepard is a naughty girl, and she probably doesn’t even know it yet.
Guess I’m the man who’s gonna teach her.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I tell her. My voice getting deeper, like Pops, back when we were kids. When he was ready to take Mama to bed and wanted us boys to shut up and go to sleep. I look over at the dogs in the doorway and say, paternally and definitively, “Hey. Go to sleep, you two.”
They both lower their heads, turn, and walk away.
“Good boys.” Even before I turn back to look at her, I know exactly how aroused she is by that. Her whole body just tensed up.
She licks her lips. “That was…impressive.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, darlin’.”
I dip down to take one hard nipple in my mouth.
Her breasts are swollen and flushed, and they will be deep pink and raw from scruff and sucking when I’m done with them.
Her moans, the uncontrollable writhing of her body beneath mine, her fingernails across my back, they all drive me even wilder with desire for her.
I have never felt this fierce need to consume a woman before.
It’s more than chemistry. It’s primal. And she likes it.
She’s pulling me closer, fingers in my hair, feeding herself to me.
I will take everything she’s willing to give me.
The tip of my cock has been teasing her pussy, and she’s so wet I can push in hard without hurting her too much.
She gasps, and I hike myself up, thrusting in deep, with a furious rhythm that invokes a symphony of yeses and oh Gods and my name, followed by a string of swear words—arrangements I’ve never even heard before.
She moves her hips to match mine. So receptive.
Her eyes are shut so tight, and I have no doubt that the only thought bouncing around that head of hers is about how good this feels.
Her feet slide up the backs of my legs. If she’s thinking about changing positions, then I’m not working hard enough.
I drill into her. Her legs lose their tension and her arms flop to the side.
There is absolutely no resistance—finally.
I pause just long enough to get up on my knees, get her very pliable legs straight up in front of me, and then I cross them.
Her ankles are by my ears, and she is so tight around me.
I hold on to her thighs, slamming against them, grunting.
She reaches up behind herself, grabs on to the metal headboard.
I’m hitting her g-spot, and she can’t form words anymore, only these high-pitched, operatic sighs.
She’s deliriously happy, and I’m the one who got her there.
It’s the most unbearable feeling of pleasure. This having and still wanting more. Being so deep inside her but never, ever deep enough.
She’s coming already. It’s loud and messy and glorious, but I’m not going to wait for her to finish.
I’m going to surprise her by spreading her legs apart again, turning her over onto her hands and knees, and taking her from behind until she screams. I grab a fistful of that gorgeous long hair and tug on it just hard enough until she groans. We’re both panting.
I am so close to coming myself. The sight of her arched back, her ass.
The way she presses back into me. I slap her ass just once, and she yelps and shudders.
So hot. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that to her before, and I think she liked it.
So I do it again. She likes it so much, she grits out a swear word and then lowers herself onto her elbows and forearms, sending her perfect peach of an ass up higher.
Sweet Jesus, even when she’s delirious she’s still giving me something to make me feel better.
I grab on to her hips, say her name through gritted teeth, and come so hard my ears are ringing.
She lowers herself flat against the mattress, and I collapse onto her back, wrapping my arms around her waist. The world is spinning out of control, and I don’t want to let her go. It feels like hours before we’re able to catch our breaths.
I feel so vulnerable all of a sudden. I’ve never let myself go like that before. That was never a part of the fantasy. After trying to control myself around her—for her—for weeks, I guess it was inevitable that I’d lose it. But it’s what she wanted, I think. I hope.
I pull out of her and make a quick trip to her bathroom again.
When I return, she’s under the covers, back against two pillows, touching her lips, her necklace. Her hair is all fluffed up, and I barely recognize her, her face is so relaxed. I join her under the covers and wait for her to say something.
She stares into space for a minute and then blurts out, “I’ve seen every episode of That’s So Wizard!,” then covers her face. “Some of them more than once.”
This revelation is possibly even more delicious than the gopher thing. “You mean when you were younger?”
“Yeah.” She barks out a laugh. “When I was three years younger.”
“You mean after we met that first time?”
She nods, still covering her face.
“Aw. Baby.” I take hold of her wrists, tug on them. I need to see that beautiful face and kiss it before I go home to my kitten. But I will probably never stop making fun of her for that.